Easy to Cry
by DolbyDigital
Summary: Nursery, Lorcan decides, is the root of all evil


**A/N —** Written for Houses [G] theme: rejection, word: acceptance

The title is taken from the quote: "It's easy to cry when you realize that everyone you love will reject you or die." ― Chuck Palahniuk

Thank you Raven, Alishya and Beks for beta'ing :D

[2300]

* * *

 _Acceptance:_

 _The act of consenting to receive or undertake something offered;_

 _Agreement with or belief in an idea of explanation;_

 _The process of being received as adequate, valid, or suitable_

 _Acceptance is the willingness to tolerate a difficult situation._

…oOo…

Lorcan sits opposite Lysander, cross-legged on the floor of their bedroom. They're both building towers out of their blocks — they're Lorcan's favourite ones, with the swirling patterns that move across the face of the cube when you touch them — and once their towers are built, they get to knock each others' down.

"What're you doing?" Dad asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Lysander opens his mouth to speak, but Lorcan shakes his head — Dad doesn't like it when they play war — and says: "Building towers." Dad frowns but nods anyway.

"Don't you want to go play outside?" he asks. "Mrs Brennan down the street has her nephew over. He's about your age, maybe you could —"

Lorcan and Lysander both shake their heads. They're fine with just the two of them; they always have been. Other kids didn't tend to like them, anyway.

"Okay," Dad says on a sigh. "It was just an idea." He still looks worried, but he pushes away from the door frame, leaving them to their blocks; they pay the conversation no more thought.

.oOo.

That is, of course, until a week later, when they find themselves unceremoniously dropped off at a nursery centre.

They should have known something was up when Dad gave them a red backpack with their favourite toy and told them they were going out to get ice-cream. Dad _hated_ taking them for ice-cream; they spent too long on tiptoes peering at the different flavours, fingers smudging the reflective glass, and then they'd get upset when they'd have to share a bowl 'cause after that one time they aren't allowed cones anymore.

"Daddy, we don't want to," Lorcan says, starting up at his dad reproachfully. "Why can't we stay home?"

"Because," Dad says, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, "you need to make friends." Lorcan is about to say he has a friend when Dad continues: "It's not good being inside all the time." Lorcan sulks, folding his arms across his chest and pouting, but he thinks making friends is something Lysander would like so he doesn't complain.

Dad takes his hand and leads them inside, where they're greeted by an overly cheerful woman with her blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail that bounces with every step she takes.

"Hello," she says, grinning down at them. She has lipstick on her teeth, Lorcan notes sullenly. She turns to Dad and asks: "Scamander?"

"Yeah," Dad says, letting go of Lorcan's hand and taking the clipboard she offers.

"We just need you to sign a few forms before you leave."

"That's fine," Dad says, and then, to Lorcan and Lysander: "Why don't you go play and I'll —" Lorcan nods before Dad can finish, still angry and upset, and heads towards the farthest corner, Lysander following closely behind.

"Kids can be very independent," he hears the woman saying to Dad, her voice loud enough to carry across the room.

Lorcan sits down on the floor. There's a brightly coloured mat with numbers from one to nine all in the wrong order, and a paper mural on the wall made up mostly of ripped sugar paper, smudged mirror card, and tissue paper that's been covered in too much glue. Lorcan hates it, but Lysander seems happy enough from where he's sitting opposite his brother.

They decide against playing with their blocks and keep their backpack on. Lysander was all for sharing, but Lorcan didn't want the other kids playing with his toys.

"Hi," a girl says, sitting on the mat in front of Lorcan.

"Move," Lorcan says.

"Why?" she asks, tipping her head to one side. She has long, wavy hair the same colour as Mum's had been; it would have been pretty if Lorcan hadn't taken an instant disliking to her.

"You're in the way," he snaps. "We're playing."

"I can play, too," she says.

"We have blocks," Lysander says from behind her; Lorcan has to lean over to see him properly. "You can play."

Lorcan scowls but removes his backpack. "Fine," he says, yanking the zip open and tipping his blocks onto the floor. "She better not lose any."

"I won't," she says, frowning, but she picks up a block — the purple one, Lorcan's favourite — and starts tracing the pattern with the tip of her finger. "They're pretty."

"They're ours." He narrows his eyes in what he hopes is a warning, but she looks a little too hopeful.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Mine and my brother's."

"Oh, that's —" she picks up the yellow block.

"That's Lysander's!"

"That's okay," Lysander says, "I don't mind." But she's already dropped the block.

"Fine," she mutters, pulling out all the purple and pink blocks. "I don't like yellow anyway."

She builds her castle quickly while Lorcan watches, sulking.

"It's not very good," he says.

"Well _I_ like it," Lysander says.

The girl glares at Lorcan. "Stop it. You shouldn't talk like that."

"It's not nice," Lysander agrees; Lorcan turns his glare on his brother.

"She's —" Lorcan begins.

"Stop it, stop it, _stop it!_ " The girl stands, knocking over her castle. Lysander makes a small noise of distress. "Why are you _like_ this?" Her voice cracks and she looks close to tears; Lorcan thinks she might be overreacting slightly.

"Stop _what?"_ Lorcan snaps, and Lysander follows with: "We're not doing anything."

The girl shrieks — a sound part way between angry and upset — and runs for the bubbly lady with the clipboard.

"Just ignore her," Lorcan says to Lysander. "It's better without her anyway." Lysander nods, but he still seems upset, so Lorcan lets him play with the purple blocks.

Lorcan is just standing to add a pink block to the very top of the tower when the bubbly blonde lady walks over.

"Hi," she says, smiling brightly. "How's everything going?" Lorcan gives her a blank look. "Is everything okay over here?" she asks.

"Yep," Lysander says, smiling brightly. The tower falls down.

"So you're okay?" she asks, crouching down. Her eyes flick over to the girl, then back to them. "Making friends?"

Lysander's smile falls from his face. "She didn't like us."

"Oh, um … okay," she says; she has that confused smile on her face Lorcan sometimes sees on Dad when he isn't sure if they're being serious or not. "Well … why don't you try to meet someone else?" she asks hesitantly.

Lorcan doesn't want to, but Lysander smiles brightly and says: "Okay."

She smiles, apparently more confident now. "That's great," she says, adding: "And it was nice to see you sharing your toys." Lysander's smile brightens. "I hope you have fun," she says, relaxing further. "And try to make some friends."

She leaves, going back to the girl, but Lorcan and Lysander decide against finding someone else to play with. They'd already tried that today.

.oOo.

They see Dad in the crowd of parents coming through the main doors and run over, eager to leave, but the blonde lady pulls him to the side.

"Hi, Mr. Scamander," she says; her smile is still in place, but she looks less cheerful now.

"Is everything okay?" Dad asks. "Did Lorcan —"

"There's been a … _mild_ incident," she cuts him off. "Nothing major, but one of the other children was very upset."

Lorcan switches off after that; it hadn't been their fault.

.oOo.

"Okay," Dad says, hands on their shoulders, "today you're going to make some friends, right?" Lorcan shrugs while Lysander nods. "Right," Dad says, but he seems less confident now. "Well try at least." They both nod now, although Lorcan is still a bit reluctant to do so.

"Yes, Dad."

He kisses them on the forehead and says: "Have fun. I love you."

"Love you, too."

They haven't brought the blocks today — Lorcan had cried when Dad tried to pack them — but they still have their backpack. Lysander had insisted on bringing one of their barbies, though, and Lorcan hates them. The clothes are too fiddly and the shoes always fall off, but Dad says if they want to play with them then they have to be wearing clothes.

A boy approaches them.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," says Lysander, smiling, and Lorcan says: "Hello."

The boy giggles. "You're funny." Lorcan doesn't see what either of them did that was funny but he laughs along anyway. "Do you wanna play with my trucks?"

"Yeah!" Lorcan says eagerly, but Lysander shakes his head. "We have Barbie."

"My sister plays with barbies," the boy says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "They're for girls."

"She's a policeman," Lysander says.

"Oh!" The boy's face brightens. "Then yeah!"

Lysander pulls her out of his bag as the boy goes to get his trucks. "I told you Barbie was cool," he says.

"I like batman."

"We don't _have_ batman."

The boy approaches warily, clutching his trucks. "What're you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing," says Lorcan, and Lysander adds: "Just talking."

"Oh, um … okay," he says, setting his trucks down on the coloured mat. "I want the red one."

Lorcan picks up the blue truck as Lysander asks: "Can I have yellow?" and reaches hesitantly towards it.

"You can only play with one," the boy says.

"I only want one?" Lysander says it like a question, confused.

"Okay," he says slowly, and then: "Who's gonna be the police?"

Lysander clutches the yellow truck protectively to his chest, so Lorcan says: "I will," and puts the blue truck back.

"She can ride in the back of the truck?" Lysander suggests.

The boy hesitates and then says: "Yeah, she could be cool like Officer Jenny." Lorcan doesn't know who Jenny is but he grins, picking up the blue truck again and sitting Barbie down in the bed.

"Are you counting?" Lysander asks.

"Yeah, but you gotta get on the start line." Lorcan grabs a ruler and puts it in front of them.

"You're not funny anymore."

"Sorry," Lysander says, lip quivering, but Lorcan takes offence and snaps: "You were never funny."

"Shut up!" the boy yells loud enough for the blonde lady to hear and she starts to walk over. "I don't wanna play with you anymore."

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

"Yes," Lysander says, but Lorcan and the boy follow with a firm "no."

"I said stop it!" the boy yells, dropping all but the yellow truck and hitting Lorcan with it. Hard.

Lorcan _wails_ and Lysander lunges, reaching for the boy with clawed fingers and scratching at his face with his nails. The lady is yelling and children are screaming, but their attention is focussed solely on the boy.

"That's enough!" she yells, and Lorcan finds himself being lifted into the air. There's a tearing sound — he'd still been gripping the other boy's shirt, it seems — and then they are separated. "You —" she points at the other boy "— over there," she says, pointing towards _their_ corner. She sets Lorcan down and sends him off to a corner at the opposite end of the room.

.oOo.

Lorcan's still fuming when Dad arrives to pick them up, but angry tears fall from his eyes.

"Mister Scamander," the blonde lady says, stopping Dad before he can march over to him; he looks just as angry as Lorcan feels. "I — I have some forms." Dad nods stiffly, taking them from her hands. "I — I'm not sure this is the best place," she says. "There was trouble yesterday, and now today …"

"Yes, of course," Dad says.

"There's other nurseries," she says as Dad hands the signed forms back. "You need to keep these ones, but —" she takes the pen and writes something on the corner of one of them "— it's a bit of a drive from here, but I think this school might … better suit your needs."

.oOo.

They're sent straight to their room as soon as they get home. Lorcan sits cross-legged on the floor and scrubs angrily at his face, the tears still falling.

"You need to stop," he mutters, glaring at Lysander.

"Sorry." He sniffs loudly.

The door opens and Dad walks into their room; he looks both disappointed and annoyed.

"Daddy, we're so-rry," Lysander says, voice cracking slightly on the last word.

"It was his fault," Lorcan snaps, "not ours."

"Lorcan, that's enough," Dad snaps. "You need to stop this kind of behaviour."

"But —"

"No!" he says, unfolding a large sheet. "Go downstairs and eat your dinner."

"But —"

"Now, Lorcan!"

.oOo.

Lorcan waits for Dad to come back downstairs before picking up his fork and sullenly eating. Dad just watches him for a while.

"Would you like to go to a new school?" he eventually asks. Lorcan shakes his head but remains silent. Dad sighs. "Not even if there would be other kids … like you?"

"I want Lysander."

"Stop it, Lorcan," Dad says. "Finish your dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Lorcan mutters, squishing his peas with the flat of his fork.

Dad waits another twenty minutes before sending him back to his room.

.oOo.

Lorcan _screams_. It's all wrongwrong _wrong_. There's two large sheets over the mirrored doors of the wardrobe, towels covering the two large windows, and the mosaic he'd made with Mum out of brightly coloured plastic squares had been removed from the wall. They'd used a mirror to copy his face, and it had been the last thing …

"I'm sorry," Dad says. "It's for your own good."

But Lorcan doesn't see how that can be true, because Lysander is _gone_.

…oOo…

 _Rejection, however, is all that Lorcan has known._

* * *

 **A/N —** I couldn't say this at the start, but there were a few intentional mistakes/inconsistencies which were to do with the reveal (such as the occasional missing plural, Lorcan and Lysander seeming to know each other's thoughts, and Lysander sometimes disappearing).


End file.
